Dante nodded wordlessly. He understood what Marcus was saying. It was like that in Boyle Heights, too. Some people took to the possibility of magic very strongly, others, not so much. There were a few Curanderas, healing women, that he had heard about growing up, but none of his family, to his knowledge, had ever used their services. It was either modern medicine, or time tested home remedies, for the Ruiz clan. Like using baking soda and water for an upset stomach. Which, when he told people around him that it worked, they usually looked at him like he had grown a second head. It was something that Imelda had used on him since he could remember, and he trusted Mami entirely. Perhaps a little bit too implicitly, at times.
“I mean… you could take her something, sure. But I’d recommend something soft, like a cream pie, instead of something like a biscotti. Just in case she does, in fact, decide to return the gift to sender. But maybe she can be tempted by sweet things.” Perhaps. People had been calmed by stranger things in life. “I could recommend a few bakeries that are close by, if you’d like.” Panaderias were very, very prevalent in East L.A. The pink box was a frequent visitor to his family home. Despite that, Dante had to admit that the traditional Mexican sweet stuff wasn’t always his personal favorite. He’d never acquired the taste for pandulce. Tres Leches was too spongy and wet for him. And flan was just an evil, horrible thing that needed to be wiped from the face of the planet. He had strong feelings about flan, clearly. His laugh echoed Marcus’s. Their initial encounter was going well.
“Large in number, highly invasive, never able to quite understand when to leave something alone, which can be infuriating but you also know that the reason that they’re doing that is because they really do give a damn about you so you can’t be that mad at them, which, in itself, can be just as, if not more, infuriating?” He asked, tone tiptoeing the line between joking and utter honesty, “Yup, that’s them.” It seemed like Marcus, like Dante, wanted a little bit of privacy in his life. That made sense. If the other man’s family was anything like his, and it seemed like there were some strong, strong commonalities, Dante could empathize fully. It was why he had moved away when he did, because he needed to feel like he had a certain level of independence. But Marcus left the state. Marcus traveled halfway around the country. Dante… couldn’t even fathom being that far away from his family. The fact that Marcus was able to make that choice was respectable. “You might see them around from time to time. They’re frequently here. Don’t help with rent, but then again… I didn’t pay rent back when I lived at home, so it’s kind of fair.”
“Oh, yeah… they’re not far. We’re from Boyle Heights. If I walk outside and look that way,” he pointed in the direction that he was implying, “it’s easy to see certain things that are close to where the house that I grew up in is at. I can’t, you know, actually see my house, but close enough. Clearly, it’s nothing like the distance between you and your family… maybe I just wanted the illusion of privacy. Still, I can make it home within a half hour, even on heavy traffic days. Which can work both ways, since I can make it back when I’m feeling the need for some family time, but then my grandmother knows exactly how close I am to the house, so I constantly get the ‘mijo, why don’t you stop by more often?’ speech. Which I can quote verbatim at this point. In English and Spanish.” Dante got it a lot. A. Lot.
When Marcus threw out the word ‘complicated,’ Dante felt his body seize up just a little bit. Perhaps, without intending to, he had brought up something that wasn’t really on the discussion table. While it was true that he was prying into Marcus’s life, by default, it was merely casual conversation, not an interrogation. “I understand that. I’ve been to smaller places, and I know all about rustic charm… but, honestly, the quaintness was enough to drive me up the wall. I’m not cut out for small town life.” He paused, eyes turning away for just a moment as he spoke, “Sorry if that question was a little too personal, Marcus. You can tell me it’s none of my business whenever you want. I'll back off.”